Family and What it Means
by The Second Artist
Summary: In which Lance reminisces about space and family.


**whooooo first voltron fanfic thing. IDK This was something that I just wanted to write. I don't think this'll have any direction to it. It's a oneshot, a small little blurb.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Space.

That's all the empty, black void outside of the ship was.

Just empty space.

But Lance stopped himself. No, there wasn't just empty space. Billions upon billions of planets, and galaxies, and _dimensions_ were packed into all that space. There was no way that the black void filled with bright lights was just empty. There was no way that in all of that black, in all of that space, there would be nothing occupying it. No, that simply wasn't possible. There was _life_ in this gargantuan, unlimited expanse.

Lance smiled. His home was somewhere there. Somewhere in the trillions of miles of vast openness that was deep space. He smiled at the thought of his nieces and nephews, and how the tiniest of the bunch would play with him. "Uncle Lance! Uncle Lance!", they would call him. He smiled for his sisters, and his brothers; all of them were older than he was and definitely more mature. They'd ruffle his hair, and call _him_ the baby of the group. He laughed, he chuckled, he pretended to hate it, but really, he enjoyed the time he spent with his family. He enjoyed the laughs, and the good times he had with his family. It was the best. Lance smiled at the the memories of his father, and how they'd play with a soccer ball, and pretended they were professionals. He smiled at the times he had with Hunk and Pidge back on Earth, and all the restaurants and arcades they went to.

He smiled at his mother, who no matter what circumstance, loved him unconditionally, with all of her being. His mother, who undoubtedly must've been worried to death at this point. His mother, who no doubt had been fed a horrifically tragic lie about Lance's disappearance. That he snuck out and messed with the wrong people and had gotten himself killed or that someone had murdered him in his own room and god _knows_ what the hell else.

Lance stopped smiling, and grew angry.

He gritted his teeth at the thought of a government operative daring to step a single _foot_ in his household and telling his own family that Lance had been _killed_ by something. That Lance was dead, and there wasn't a single goddamn thing they could do but ball and cry and _sob_ their eyes out. He grew angrier at the thought of that same government operative looking at them with dead, emotionless eyes, lying straight to his family's faces and knowing full well what happened to Lance. Knowing that Lance wasn't dead, and that he had snuck out to be a Paladin of Voltron. To think that they had done the exact same with Pidge's family. To Matt. To _Shiro._

He balled his hands into fists, and grit his teeth. Lance closes his eyes in unimaginable rage, and punches the white, metallic ship wall. It resounds with a loud _wub_ as his fist made contact. How _dare_ they do that to his family? To his mother, father, sisters, and brothers. How _dare_ they even step inside his home, let alone tell his big family that their baby was no longer on this Earth? That their baby was no longer with them. That he passed away. That he was _dead._

 _No,_ he was _there!_ He was alive, and breathing, and _existing,_ and _here_. _He was with them!_ He hadn't died! He was okay!

But Lance knew that thinking this was fruitless. He wasn't on Earth. He wasn't even in the same _galaxy._ He was billions of light years away from his own planet. He wouldn't come back for a long time. Years, even. His family couldn't and wouldn't be able to hear him.

They wouldn't be able to hear his voice.

They wouldn't be able to hear his laughter.

His words.

His crying.

His sobbing.

His screaming.

His _anger._

His _cursing at the ones who defied his family._

And god knows that Lance will do anything to defend his family.

But right now, he had another family. It may be small, it may be missing a few pieces, but it was _there._ It was alive. It was with him, and has been with him for the longest year of his goddamn life. He needed them, and they needed him. He couldn't abandon them. Not now, not in a million years. No, he'd never do that. He couldn't do that.

So for now, he would stare at the empty space for as long as he needed to, reminiscing about his family on Earth, and saving the one he had on the ship.

After all, all space has life.

No space is without meaning, and god be damned his space didn't have any meaning.

There was no empty space, only space filled with _life._

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 **Okay, so I wrote this in one sitting, and I am actually pretty happy with this. I wouldn't change a single thing! Wow, I actually wrote this in one night. What a miracle!**

 **Anyways, I hope you loved this small one-shot. Love you guys!**


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